


Not Anymore

by orphan_account



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, brief mentions of breast-feeding, otherwise entirely fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 11:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick and Barbara are expecting a baby. Damian reacts just like any child who's about to get a younger sibling does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Anymore

When Dick and Barbara marry each other, whether or not Barbara can actually have kids isn’t a big deal. Dick grew up in a home where blood wasn’t the deciding factor in whether or not someone was family, so they have no issues or reservations with adoption. If Babs can’t have kids, that’s fine. They’ll adopt, it’s no big deal. If she can, great! It’s not a deciding factor in their marriage, that’s all.

A year later, however, they find out Babs is pregnant.

The couple hadn’t even been trying (they’d both agreed on putting kids off for a bit, despite how much they both wanted them, just so they could get everything sorted out), so naturally the news came as a surprise. A _big_ one. Dick is beyond ecstatic, and does flips all over their home in the clock tower. His excitement is contagious, and Barbara finds herself smiling and laughing more than she had even on her wedding day.

“I’m gonna be a _dad_ ,” Dick says reverently, taking a break in his flips to kneel down in front of Barbara and place a hand on her abdomen, “We’re gonna be a _family!_ ” He lets out another laugh, one that shows just how amazing this situation is for him. Barbara smiles gently, placing one of her own hands over Dick’s.

“And I’m…I’m going to be a _mother._ ” She says it quietly, with a certain breathy quality to it. She’s just as blown away by the news as Dick is. Dick grins, leaning forward to give her a quick kiss on the tip of her nose.

“You’re going to be a _great_ mother,” he reassures her, grasping her free hand with his own. He runs a calloused thumb over her knuckles, a gesture that he’s done since they were children. “Oh my god,” he says after a moment, “Who do we tell first?”

Barbara laughs. “That’s a good question!” She pauses for a moment, thinking. “Are we going to Bruce’s for the Fourth of July? We could tell your family then…” Dick nods, contemplating the suggestion.

“That sounds good. Are you sure we can keep our mouths shut ‘till then?” Babs leans over and kisses Dick, her auburn locks tickling his cheek. He can feel her lips smile against his own slightly chapped ones, and he grins in response.

“We wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, now, would we?”

* * *

 

The couple only has a narrow window of opportunity to share their joyous news, and they know it. Things will only stay peaceful at the Wayne family’s Fourth of July picnic for so long, until Jason makes a snide comment or Tim and Damian begin to bicker or Bruce says something that comes out completely wrong and ends up offending everybody or…yeah. There’s a lot of stuff that can go wrong very quickly when their entire family is seated in one place at one time.

“Before we begin to dine,” Alfred says, giving Jason (who has a hotdog halfway to his mouth already) a pointed look, “Master Dick has informed me that he and Ms. Barbara have something that they would like to share with us.” All eyes turn to the couple sitting side by side at the end of the table. The two lock eyes for a moment, smiling at each other as if to provide reassurance, before they simultaneously turn to face the rest of the table’s occupants.

“Barbara and I,” Dick begins after taking a deep breath, “We just found out that, well…” he trails off, and Barbara picks up for him.

“I’m pregnant!” There’s silence for a moment as everyone processes this fact, before the patio erupts in joyful chaos.

“This is excellent news,” Alfred says, his eyes glittering with tears of happiness. He elegantly dabs them away with his handkerchief.

“Congrats, dude!” Jason laughs as he slaps Dick on the back. The older brother winces; Jason’s affection is rarely without some sort of pain, but he smiles widely and accepts the praise anyway.

Tim, Stephanie, and Cass, meanwhile, have all focused on Barbara. Tim and Cass stare with unabashed amazement at the woman’s still very flat and toned stomach, as if watching it will make it grow before their eyes.

“There’s a…baby in there?” Cass asks, her dark eyes wide.

“Wow,” Tim breathes.

Stephanie, though, hugs Babs, tears making their way down her face to drip on the older woman’s blouse. “This is awesome!” She declares after a moment as she pulls back to offer a watery smile. “Oh, gosh, I just… _wow_. You and Dick are going to be the _best_ parents, I know it.”

Barbara laughs, a blush on her face at the compliment and tears in her eyes from happiness, and squeezes Steph’s hand in thanks.

Bruce, ever the awkward turtle (awkward bat?) of the family, is silent for a moment, obviously struggling to find the right words to stay. Eventually, he approaches his eldest son and places a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Congratulations,” he says, an awkward, hesitant smile on his face, “Does this make me a grandfather?”

Dick laughs, pulling his father figure in for a tight hug. “Yup. And that makes Alfred a _great_ -grandfather!” He releases the man, though, well aware of his issues with prolonged intimate physical contact. With Bruce no longer right there, Dick catches sight of Damian. The young boy keeps looking between him and Barbara, as if he’s still having issues wrapping his head around this phenomenon.

Dick smiles, kneeling down in front of the boy. He places boy hands on Damian’s shoulders as he looks into his eyes. “Do you know what this makes you?” Dick asks, and Damian frowns in confusion.

“What?” How can an unborn child _make_ him anything?

“It makes you an uncle!” Dick declares, as if this title is just as important as the _Robin_ title. “In a couple of years there’s gonna be a little kid running around the manor calling you ‘Uncle Damian,’ and he or she is going to think you’re the coolest thing in the world, I bet.” He laughs, and Damian raises an eyebrow. He’s not so excited about the idea of there being yet _another_ person occupying his house, let alone a child, but he’s more concerned with something else his older brother said.

“He or she?” He inquires, “You do not yet know the sex of the child?” Dick stands, ruffling Damian’s hair as he does so.

“Barb is only a few weeks along, D. We won’t be able to find out for at least another month or two; that’s just the way modern medicine works.” Damian scowls, fixing his hair, but his features soften as his blue eyes catch sight of Barbara as she shares a laugh with Cass. Her stomach does not yet appear like that of a pregnant woman’s; it’s still toned and there’s not even the barest hint of a bump that would hold a developing infant.

“But, her stomach…?” Damian trails off, looking up at Dick. The older man looks over to his wife, understanding the younger boy’s question.

“It’ll get bigger as she gets further along. Believe me, in a couple of months she’ll be _huge_.”

“Oh,” is all Damian says as his mind tries to produce an image of Barbara looking more pregnant. It’s difficult; he finds it hard to picture her stomach anything but the hard six pack it is now. The roundness of a pregnant belly seems too…domestic for a woman he knows full-well is tougher than nails. After all, if she was weak…well, let’s just say that Dick wouldn’t have married Barbara. No, Damian would _not_ have allowed it.

His attention is brought back to the present world when Alfred eventually orders everyone to go back to their seats so that they can eat the wonderful meal he prepared.

Of course, in a few minutes Jason has already begun to throw some teasing insults at certain people present and Damian is snarking at Tim, but for the first time in a long time, a family gathering doesn’t end with bloodshed and a furious “ _Fuck you!_ ” being shouted at someone as the shouter storms off.

* * *

 

They tell Jim when he visits for a causal dinner one evening. Barbara’s passing him the butter for his roll when he looks knowingly between her and Dick and asks, “So what has you two so happy?” Dick grins sheepishly, knowing that he can’t hide anything from his father-in-law (he’s _convinced_ the man knows he’s Nightwing, as well as the rest of his family’s secret identities), and looks to Barbara.

Beaming, she tells her father, “I’m pregnant!”

His mouth quivers for a moment, then before the happy couple can blink, he’s out of his chair and has Babs in a tight hug.

“My baby girl,” he says, eyes wet with happiness, “about to have a baby of her own!” Barbara laughs, eyes a bit misty herself, as she hugs her dad back. Jim gives Dick a stern look over his daughter’s shoulder. “You better take good care of her,” he warns, and Dick nods earnestly.

“She’ll get the royal treatment,” the acrobat promises. They know better than to take any chances with this pregnancy, when both Barbara and the baby’s lives are on the line.

Jim releases Babs, straightening and approaching Dick. He gives the young man a firm handshake. “I’m trusting you,” he says, and Dick nods again.

“I won’t let anything happen to her _or_ the baby,” he vows, and Jim smiles again, pulling his son-in-law into a tight hug. He pulls back after a moment, beaming at the couple with a grin that threatens to split his face in half.

“Congratulations, you two!”

* * *

 

“Hey, Dick! Sorry it took me so long to get in touch with you, you know how pesky those off-world missions can be. What’d you need?”

Wally doesn’t even bother knocking, speeding straight through the door. Dick and Barbara aren’t in the immediate vicinity, though he can hear them conversing in the kitchen. Dick’s there in a second, a bright smile on his face.

“Wally!” He cries out in excitement, “It’s good to see you! C’mon, come say hi to Babs.” The acrobat grabs Wally’s wrist and drags him down the hallway to where his wife is waiting. Barbara is sitting at the table with a thick book in front of her. She looks up at their entrance, and when she catches sight of Wally she offers him a big grin.

“Wally!” She exclaims, mirroring her husband’s earlier reaction, “It’s good to see you! C’mere,” she says, turning her chair and then opening her arms wide, “give me a hug.” The speedster grins right back, not waiting a second to fulfill her offer.

“Hey Barb, haven’t seen you in a bit. Whatcha reading?” He stands, looking over her shoulder to see her book. “Uh…a pregnancy book?” He looks up, glancing between Dick and Barbara, both of whom have ear-to-ear grins on their faces. “No way!” He exclaims, soon sporting a grin to match theirs. “Really?”

“Really,” Barbara confirms.

“How far along are you?” The redhead asks, scrutinizing her still-flat stomach. “You don’t even show!”

“Only a few weeks,” she says, laughing. “We don’t even know the sex yet.” Wally nods wisely, remembering Linda’s own pregnancies.

“So, no names yet?” He asks. “It’s kinda difficult to decide before you know if it’ll be a boy or a girl.”

 “Not yet,” Dick admits.

“We were going to wait until we knew the sex,” Barbara continues, “that way we could narrow down the list a bit.”

You’re gonna name him after me if it’s a boy, though, right?” There’s an awkward pause, then Wally laughs again. “Nah, I’m just kidding. Wallace is a horrible name, I have no idea what my parents were thinking.”

“Hey,” Dick says, laughing along with his best friend, “Look at what everyone calls _me_ …Wallace isn’t that bad.” Wally nods his head to that, he knows how immature kids these days are about Dick’s name.

“Have you done anything yet? Buy a crib, get some diapers, that kind of stuff?” Dick and Barbara look at each other a bit guiltily.

“I suppose we should get onto that.” Barbara laughs sheepishly. “We don’t really have any idea what we’re doing, do we?”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Wally says, placing a hand on her shoulder. “No one really does when it comes to this sort of thing. Linda and I learned a lot of it on the go. People can give you tons of tips, but when it comes down to it, parental instinct and learning from your mistakes is the best help you can get. But don’t worry!” he repeats, “If you ever need any help, I’m just a phone call away!”

Dick smiles, stepping forward to place a hand on Wally’s shoulder. “Thanks, man. I mean it.”

“However will we repay you?” Barbara asks dramatically, smiling up at one of her husband’s best friends. As if answering the question on its own, Wally’s stomach gurgles in hunger.

He laughs sheepishly. “Some food might do the trick, m’lady.” Barbara laughs, but wheels her way out of the room.

“Come on, we’ve got some ice cream in the freezer I’m sure you’ll like.”

“Some?” Dick says quietly to Wally, “I swear she’s stocking up for when the cravings begin!”

“I heard that, Richard John Grayson!” Barbara’s voice carries down the hallway. Dick and Wally share a conspiratorial laugh, but Wally remembers that Linda was just like that whenever she was pregnant.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart!”

* * *

 

When Babs is about fifteen weeks along, her baby bump begins to appear. Dick is fascinated, and can’t seem to keep his hands off. He’s always rubbing her stomach, sometimes even in his sleep. It feels good, though, so Barbara doesn’t complain. Damian, too, is amazed by the phenomenon that is her steadily growing stomach. He admits to Dick in a hushed, embarrassed voice that he’s never been around pregnant women before and the experience is…brand new for him. Though he hides it fairly well, Dick can tell he’s excited.

One day, Dick brings his brother to the clock tower. He accompanies the boy up to Barbara, and carefully guiding Damian, rests his hand on her stomach. The young crime fighter blushes for a moment, but his embarrassment is soon forgotten and his features melt to form one of wonder and awe. The bump is small, but prominent, and promises to grow steadily larger. It’s much easier to imagine Barbara heavily pregnant now, and Damian has to quell the unfamiliar urge to laugh at the image his mind provides him.

“Pretty cool, huh, Lil’ D?” Dick says quietly as he stands behind the boy, a hand on his shoulder. “That little baby in there is gonna grow up to be a big old person like you and me eventually. Kinda scary, isn’t it?” Damian nods wordlessly, thinking that normal human conception and pregnancy really is a marvel. Not anything like the unnatural methods like his mother used for him…but he pushes those thoughts away. Now is a time of happiness as new life prepares to enter the world.

“Do you know the sex yet?” He asks this almost every time he sees the couple. Dick smiles, but shakes his head.

“Not yet,” he says, “but we should find out in two or three weeks; that’s when our next appointment is.”

“Have you…thought about names?” Dick and Barbara glance at each other, shrugging.

“We were going to wait until we found out the sex so we could narrow it down a bit,” Barbara says, and Damian can see the logic in this.

“Very well,” he replies, and cautiously places his hand on her stomach again. This time, a hesitant smile grows on his face. Something in Dick’s chest swells – Pride? Happiness? – as he is pleased to see how far Damian’s come. Briefly, he wonders if this is what fatherhood will feel like, and the smile present on his face grows.

He thinks he’ll like being a dad.

* * *

 

They go to Leslie when it’s time to find out the sex. She carefully makes Barbara comfortable on the bed, spreading the jelly over the gentle swell of the redhead’s stomach. Dick sits in the chair beside her, holding her hand as they smile nervously at each other. They’re both nervous and excited to find out if they’ll be having a little baby boy or a little baby girl, though each has made it clear that they won’t mind either way.

“Alright, let’s take a look inside,” Leslie says, moving the probe to touch Babs’s abdomen. She’s quiet for a moment as she moves it around, trying to get a clear image on the screen. Dick leans forward a bit, trying to see, and he squeezes his wife’s hand briefly. “Oh!” Leslie exclaims when she finally gets a good look, turning the monitor a bit so the couple can see clearly. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Grayson,” she says with a smile, “it’s a boy.”

Barbara turns her head to smile up at Dick, an overjoyed laugh escaping her lips. He laughs as well, running his free hand through his dark locks of hair.

“A boy,” he says after a minute, “That’s…that’s… _wow_.” He laughs again, breathy and amazed. Leslie smiles, happy for the couple for which she’s done so much over the years. She gently begins to clean the excess jelly off Barbara’s stomach as the couple continues to share their excitement.

“We can finally start to decorate and think of names,” Babs says. “Boy names, huh? You got any ideas?” Names flash through both of their minds. They could be sentimental, and name their son after someone important in their lives, perhaps. John, after Dick’s father, James, after Barbara’s father, Bruce… or, perhaps, they could do what most couples do and pull out a baby names book.

“Not quite,” Dick replies. They’ll stop by a Babies-R-Us store on the way home and pick up a baby names book. Plus, now that they know it’s a boy, they can start buying some clothes, too. Looking at Barbara’s exposed stomach and thinking that inside it rests his _son_ , Dick suddenly realizes that _this is happening_. He’s going to be a _father_. He and Barbara are going to pick out a name that their son will be called for the rest of his life. They’re going to buy clothes for him to wear. A crib in which he can sleep. This is _real_. There’s a little person growing in Barbara’s stomach, and he, _Dick Grayson_ , helped make him.

* * *

 

Dick accompanies Barbara as she rolls into the Babies-R-Us that was on their way home. It’s white and clean inside and all the bright clothing and toys give it a joyful air, nothing like the depressing gray atmosphere of Gotham just outside its doors. The couple makes their way over to the newborns’ section, where Dick immediately latches on to a Batman onesie.

“We have to get it, Babs! Imagine Bruce’s face when he sees it!” His wife laughs and takes it from him, placing it in the basket she’s holding. Dick, meanwhile, manages to find onesies of almost every hero’s design. Within a few minutes, he’s got a Robin one, two Nightwing ones (one in red and one in blue), a Superman one (“Bruce’ll love this, won’t he?”), a Red Robin one, a Flash one (and a Kid Flash and an Impulse one), and several others. It’s expensive, but money isn’t an issue and every penny is worth it.

“Alright, Hunk Wonder,” Babs laughs, “I think it’s time we pick out some normal outfits, don’t you think?” Dick sighs in mock disappointment, but the two move on to find a few more outfits that aren’t hero-centric. They don’t have to buy everything today (after all, they’ve still got somewhere around five months left), but it’s always nice to get a head start. As they head towards the register, Dick makes sure to pick up a book of baby names and their meanings. They may not end up using it, but it’s always nice to have just in case.

“Let’s get home,” Dick says as they leave the store, “I’m sure Damian is already sitting there and waiting for us to get back so he can hear.” The two snicker at the thought as Babs climbs in the car and Dick loads the numerous bags into the trunk.

* * *

 

Dick was right.

When they get home, they find Damian sitting expectantly on the couch looking a bit irritated. As soon as he catches sight of the bags, though, he perks up.

“You found out?” he asks with thinly veiled eagerness.

“Yup!” Dick responds, scooping him up off the couch to twirl him around, despite the boy’s protests. “It’s a boy!” he declares as he sets his littlest brother down. Damian gives him a light punch, but there’s a small smile on his face.

“A boy,” he says, sounding pleased. “This is excellent news.” He barely has time to say this, though, before Dick drags him over to look at the little outfits they purchased. Damian holds the Batman one up, amazed at just how _tiny_ it is. “Are all infants so…small?” He asks. Surely they can’t be, and Grayson simply accidentally bought outfits for an infant born prematurely. Dick smiles and ruffles his hair.

“Yeah. Kinda amazing, isn’t it?” Dick holds the blue Nightwing one before him, a distant look in his eyes. “We were all that little at one point. Me? I was probably even smaller.” His eyes crinkle in a smile as he imagines himself as a newborn infant. He’d always been small for his age, so he must’ve been absolutely _tiny_ as a baby.

“Even me?” Damian asks, looking up with wide eyes. Dick rests a hand on his shoulder, drawing the boy in for a one-armed side hug.

“Yup, even you.”

* * *

 

 “John Alfred?”

“Nah…doesn’t go well together. James Thomas?”

“Not feeling it. Andrew James?”

“Eh, they don’t really mesh that well either…uh, how about John Thomas?”

“I like that one!” Babs says, scribbling it down on their list.

Dick smiles up at Barbara from where he’s busy trying to put together a dresser. They’re tossing some names back and forth seeing as they still haven’t found one that feels like _the one,_ but it’s a difficult process. So far they only have three names on their list: John Thomas, James Thomas, and John Alfred.

“I think I like it better than John Alfred,” he admits. John Alfred had been their previous favorite. “D’you think…?” Dick begins, a hesitant smile on his face.

Barbara beams back. “I think so!” she says, and Dick hops up to kneel beside her.

The acrobat rests a gentle hand on her stomach. At this point, Barb is six months along and it feels like she’s getting bigger every day. “John Thomas Grayson,” Dick says, “what do you think about that, little buddy?” As if in response to his father’s question, the baby kicks. Dick looks up to Barbara, and the two share a laugh.

“I think he likes it!” Babs says, leaning down to snag a kiss from her husband. He, in turn, kisses her stomach gently, grinning up at her.

“I certainly hope he does,” Dick replies after a moment, “He’s gonna have to live with it for the rest of his life!”

* * *

 

When Babs is eight months along, Alfred insists that the two come live at the manor. “I would feel much safer having you two closer,” he insists, and neither husband nor wife feels inclined to disagree. So, Dick and Barbara pack up and head over to Wayne Manor. They bring Barb’s bag, the one that every pregnant woman is supposed to have, according to her birthing classes. It has the stuff they’ll need while they’re in and just after they leave the hospital, and she’s glad somebody told them to think ahead.

They’ve just barely gotten completely unpacked (the two have only been at the manor for two days, tops), when the couple comes downstairs one morning to find –

“ _SURPRISE!_ ”

\- a baby shower waiting for them.

“What’s this?” Dick laughs. He’s surprised that they managed to pull this off while keeping it a secret from both of them, especially considering how many people are here (Dick and Barbara have a lot of friends. _A lot_.).

“It’s a baby shower, you moron,” Jason gives him a friendly punch, choosing his words carefully when he catches sight of Alfred’s warning look. “Now c’mon, let’s get Mrs. Grayson settled down so she can open some presents!”

“If I may, Master Jason,” Alfred interrupts, “Presents shall be opened _after_ breakfast. A pregnant woman such as Ms. Barbara requires food!” No one is about to turn down food, _especially_ Alfred’s cooking. They’ve all heard the stories about how good it is, and now they want to try it for themselves.

The small crowd makes their way into a dining room, sitting down at the long table. The table is set, with platters of steaming breakfast foods sitting atop it. They sit down, eager to eat. Some quietly say grace or a simple blessing, while others dig in immediately. Soon the room is filled with conversation, much of it complements to Alfred for his delicious breakfast. The meal is finished quickly enough, and again the crowd moves rooms. This time they head to the main parlor, where a table overflowing with gifts rests in a corner.

“Oh my god, you guys.” Barbara laughs when she sees the abundance of presents. “How did you keep this from us?”

Tim grins sheepishly in response. “Well, you guys have been kinda busy lately, and word of mouth doesn’t really have a digital trail…” Barbara laughs again.

“Hurry up!” Jason demands, as if _he’s_ the one that will be opening the presents. “Let’s get started already!”

“Patience is a virtue, Master Jason,” Alfred says, but nonetheless hushes everyone and gets them seated. Once Barbara is comfortable (with Dick right at her side) and all the guests are sitting, he goes to retrieve the first present.

Dick swears that had they known about the baby shower, he and Barbara wouldn’t have bought a thing other than some furniture. They receive an abundance of outfits (it seems Damian let it out that they were expecting a boy), diapers, pacifiers, and other useful things. Some people brought gag gifts, some simply brought gift cards to places where the couple could buy baby items, and some brought toys.

Alfred, ever the dutiful butler, keeps track of who gave what gift so that Dick and Barbara could write thank you cards, while Tim makes himself useful by sorting the presents. He had a pile for toys, a pile for diapers, a pile for clothes, a pile for gift cards, and many more. Jason busies himself by putting all the wrapping paper in garbage bags.

Eventually, all the presents are opened and the guests clear out. Alfred informs Barbara that the reason for her father’s absence from the day’s events is that he caught a terrible cold and was afraid of passing it on to his daughter. Barbara smiles lovingly, making a mental note to call her father later. His concern for her and the baby over the duration of her pregnancy has been truly touching.

Jason is the first of the siblings to approach them. While Dick and Barbara are admiring the gifts, he steps forward, hiding something behind his back. “Here,” he says, shoving a small stuffed robin into Barbara’s hands. She and Dick look at it, and realize that it’s no store-bought gift.

“Jason…” Dick says, standing to hug his brother. “It’s perfect,” he says into Jason’s ear, and the man blushes despite his best efforts. When Barbara reaches up to squeeze his hand an offer a grateful smile, he blushes even harder.

When Dick lets him go, Jason tries to rub his eyes inconspicuously. “I’m allergic to all this bullshit!” he claims defensively, then goes to assist Alfred in moving the gifts to another room.

Tim is next to approach. He offers them all small box, carefully wrapped with paper patterned like the sky. Dick opens it to find a small device, and looks up to his younger brother for a further explanation. “It’s a baby monitor,” Tim explains, “I made it myself so it could be portable and easy to access and stuff.” Now that it’s been explained, Dick can see. There’s a small microphone that could probably be attached to John’s crib or maybe even his clothes, and two small receivers for Dick and Barbara to keep on their persons.

“Wow.” Dick says, “This is…”

“This is amazing.” Barbara finishes. “Thank you, Tim. This will be _incredibly_ helpful.” Tim blushes at the praise, and Dick pulls him down for a group hug with Barbara.

“I’ll go get Damian,” the youngest says, trying not to sound like he dreads the very idea, “I think he had something for you too.”

Tim leaving the room seems to be Cass’s cue to step forward to offer her own present. “It is from Alfred and me. He helped.” She says quietly, handing the bag to Barbara.

The redhead moves wrapping paper aside and feels soft fabric beneath her fingertips. Thinking it to be more clothes, she pulls the present out. Instead, she finds a blanket.

“Oh, _Cass_ ,” Barbara breathes as she unfolds the blanket and holds it up so she can see it. “It’s _gorgeous._ ” The blanket is obviously handmade, and it bears a carefully stitched design of a slumbering infant in swaddling clothes. A cute little robin sleeps beside it.

“You did a really good job, Cass!” Dick remarks. The Asian girl smiles, warmed by their praise.

“I am glad you like it,” she says, and Barbara pulls her down for a tight hug.

Damian is the last of the siblings to approach. It seems that he managed not to argue too much with Tim on the way down, though both have surly scowls on their faces. The youngest retrieves something flat, wrapped (by Damian, Dick can tell; if there’s one thing Damian _can’t_ do perfectly, it’s wrapping presents) in deep blue paper. Barbara takes it carefully, making sure not to drop it as she unwraps it.

Tearing away the paper, she gasps when she finds a framed picture inside. It’s a detailed pastel portrait of her and Dick; with Dick crouching by her chair to rest a hand on her pregnant stomach. She’s looking lovingly into her husband’s eyes, with one of her own hands resting gently on her stomach. She feels the tears in her eyes overflow, and she carefully places the portrait next to her, then pulls an apprehensive Damian into a tight hug.

“It’s _amazing_ ,” she says. Dick takes the opportunity to look at the portrait for himself, and he’s just as stunned as Barbara is.

“Did you do this yourself, Damian?” he asks, “It’s…it’s _perfect._ ” Despite his efforts, Damian blushes at the praise. Dick pulls him in for a tight hug of his own, only letting the boy go when he gasps for air and thumps his fist on his eldest brother’s back. “We’ll hang it in the nursery,” Dick declares, and Barbara agrees.

“Master Dick? Miss Barbara?” The couple looks over to Alfred, “I believe Master Bruce wishes to see you.”

“Ah, time to go talk to the big guy.” Dick says, ruffling an indignant Damian’s hair. “C’mon, Babs. Let’s go see what bossman has to say.”

Alfred leads the two down the hall to the study, where Bruce sits at his desk. “Dick, Barbara.” He begins, standing. “I’m not very good at this,” Bruce says, “This,” he gestures widely at Barbara’s stomach, “is an entirely new experience for me.” He walks around to stand in front of his desk. “I just want you to know that if you ever need anything – babysitting, money, a place to stay for a while, advice – well, Alfred would be better suited to that last one, but you get the idea. If you ever need me, don’t be afraid to ask.”

Dick and Barbara smile gratefully, already planning to make good of his offer. Bruce turns and retrieves something from one of the drawers of his desk. It’s an old stuffed lion, worn and loved, with what’s obviously a brand-new blue ribbon wrapped around its neck.

“It’s not much.” Bruce admits, “It was mine as a child, but I think it’s time to pass it on to someone new.” He hands the animal to a teary-eyed Barbara, then turns again to grab a paper off his desk. He hands it to Dick, who scans it for a moment before looking back up at Bruce, eyes wide in disbelief. “I also took the liberty of opening up a trust fund for him. I put ten thousand in there, which should be a good start.”

“B,” Dick breathes, “ _Thank you_.” He doesn’t think they’ll ever need the money, but it’s nice to know that his son will have definite financial security in case, God forbid, something happens to him or Barbara.

“Bruce, you’re too nice to us.” Barbara says. Bruce leans over to give her a kiss on the crown of her forehead, then he kneels before her, resting his hands on her stomach.

“Nonsense,” he says with a small grin, “this is my grandchild. If my memory serves me correctly, and I’m sure it does, grandparents are _supposed_ to spoil their grandchildren.”

“Hey!” Dick interrupts, “My kid is _not_ going to be spoiled! He’s gonna be perfectly behaved, isn’t he, Babs?” Barbara laughs, grabbing his hand and placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

“Whatever you say, Hunk Wonder.”

* * *

 

“Man, Barbie, you’re sure gettin’ big. When’s the due date again?” Tim elbows Jason for the crass comment as Barbara wheels into the kitchen to get some lunch a few weeks later.

“Very funny, Jason.” Barbara huffs. It’s a bit difficult for her to maneuver her chair with her ever-growing stomach in the way. She still refuses to let anyone push her, though. Well, except Dick or Alfred, but only on extremely rare occasions. “The due date’s March 23, but that’s only a rough guess. Most babies aren’t born on their due dates. Anyway, I have to get my C-section before then.” Due to the damage in her spinal cord, it could potentially be very dangerous for Barbara to go into labor. She and the doctors had agreed to have a C-section, the safest possible way for her and the baby.

“Huh. That’s, what, two weeks away?” Jason thinks, trying to imagine a calendar. “What day are you going in? You look like you could burst any day now.”

“Jason, she’s having a baby, her stomach’s not going to going to explode.” Tim rolls his eyes as he takes another bite out of his sandwich. Jason mimics him, ending his performance with a flick to his brother’s ear. Tim swats him away, managing to smear some mayonnaise on Jason’s leather jacket.

“Aw, look at what you did,” Jason grumps, examining his jacket. He goes over to the sink to get a paper towel so he can clean off the condiment.

Tim mumbles something into his sandwich that sounds suspiciously like, “why are you even wearing a jacket, we’re inside, moron,” and Barbara stifles a laugh. There’s never a dull moment in the Manor, and she thinks she likes it.

“I’m supposed to go in on March 18, so mark your calendars.” She grins, then, “Hey, grab me a paper towel while you’re over there, Jason.” He gives it to her and she uses it to clean the mayo off her hands, but keeps it next to her. “It’s not like you two to stick around at the Manor so long,” she says after biting into her sandwich. “Not that I’m bothered, but any particular reason?”

Tim and Jason glance at each other. “I think Alfred wants us around in case anything happens,” Tim says.

“Yeah, B doesn’t want anything to go wrong.” Jason continues.

“That’s sweet of them.” Barbara smiles, one hand absently rubbing her stomach under the table.

“So, uh, have you got a name yet?” Jason asks, “The little shit told us it was a boy, but we don’t know anything else.” Barbara assumes ‘the little shit’ is Damian, but chooses to let the name pass.

“We do,” she confirms, “but Dick and I decided that we’re not telling anyone until he’s born.” Jason pouts

“C’mon, not even us?” Barbara smirks.

“Nope, it’s gonna be a surprise.” She says. “It’s a lovely name, though.”

“I’m sure it is,” Tim says, standing and walking over to place his dish in the dishwasher. “Nothing too bizarre, I hope?”

“Not at all,” she laughs. “Mm, hey,” Barbara says after a moment, “Have you seen Dick? I don’t think he’s eaten lunch yet.”

“Goldie’s upstairs with the little one,” Jason says, “I think they’re putting together the crib or something.” He snickers. “Speaking of which, the brat is really excited about this. He’s been a lot less grouchy since you two got here. Still a pompous little jerk, though.”

“I’m sure he is,” Babs says as she finishes making a sandwich for Dick, “he’s never seen anything like pregnancy before.” She turns to Jason, who’s done eating, and gives him the plate with Dick’s sandwich. “Jason, could you carry this for me? I don’t exactly have much room on my lap to hold it.” It’s true, her stomach takes up a good portion of her lap now. Jason laughs.

“Sure, Barbie. Anything for you.”

* * *

 

“See, Dami, Babs has to be able to get the baby out of the crib while still staying in her chair. That’s why we needed to make the bar go down so low.” Dick demonstrates, sliding the bar down. Instead of locking at the proper place, though, it slides all the way down until it hits the floor.

“Tt. There’s a screw loose.” Damian tuts, grabbing a screwdriver and inspecting the crib. “You would be hopeless without me, Grayson.” Dick smirks, standing aside to allow Damian to do his work.

“You know,” Dick comments, “You’re gonna have to call my son something other than ‘Grayson.’ It’s gonna get confusing real quick if you do.” From underneath the crib, Damian tuts again.

“I would know the proper name by which to address him if you would _tell me_.” Dick laughs.

“Come on now, that would ruin the surprise!” Damian pops his head out to give his older brother a glare.

“No, it is foolish for you to keep such a vital fact hidden!” Dick crouches down, still smiling.

“Mm, I think somebody’s mad that he’s out of the loop,” the man says in a singsong voice. Damian growls wordlessly, finishing his adjustments and crawling out from underneath the crib. “There,” Dick says, pressing his brother to his side in a one-armed hug, “Whatever would I do without you, D?”

“Perish,” Damian huffs as he tests the crib again. This time it works properly.

“You gonna teach my kid all this handy-dandy tool stuff?” Dick asks, “Babs and Timmy are gonna teach him computers and all that techy stuff, I’m gonna teach him acrobatics, Alfred’s gonna teach him manners, and Jay’s totally gonna teach him how to sew. You gonna teach him how to kick ass when he’s old enough?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna teach your kid how to do, Goldie,” Jason says as he steps into the room, sandwich in hand.

“If the next words out of your mouth are remotely similar to ‘how to shoot a gun,’ I don’t want to hear it.” Jason pouts, but hands him his lunch anyway and steps aside so Babs can enter the room.  

“Spoilsort,” he grumbles.

Dick, meanwhile, has Barbara wheel over and see if the crib is easy enough for her to access. “See, Damian helped me make some adjustments,” Dick demonstrates, showing her where the latch is that lowers the side of the crib. “Is this good, or do we need to adjust it some more?” Barbara tests it, carefully leaning over to see if she would be able to pick up John.

“It’s perfect, honey. You and Damian got it just right.” She pulls him down for a quick kiss, and Damian and Jason both make a face.

“Get a room!” Jason says, leaning over to shield his youngest brother’s eyes. Damian swats Jason away, giving him a dirty look. He still doesn’t look at Dick and Barbara’s display of affection, though.

“We did get a room,” Barbara says with a smirk, “that’s what got me here!” She gestures to her stomach. Damian retches.

“That is more detail than I required!” he says, leaving the room.

Jason snickers as Damian exits. “Kids these days!”

* * *

 

On March 18 at precisely 11:30 in the morning, Dick, Barbara, and Alfred pile into one of the cars to go pick up Jim, then head to Gotham General Hospital for Barbara’s C-section. Bruce, Jason, Tim, Cass, Damian, and Steph (who insisted on being there, and no one was about to tell her she couldn’t be) followed close behind in a separate car.

Barbara sits between her father and Dick in the back seat of their car, holding Dick’s hand for reassurance.

“You’ll be fine,” Jim says, placing a comforting hand over her free hand that rests on her stomach, “You’re a strong girl, Barbara.”

She smiles over at him. “Thanks, daddy,” she says. They’re all a bit nervous; despite the many precautions they’re taking, something could still go wrong and really hurt or even kill Barbara and the baby.

“It’ll all be over before you know it,” Dick says, rubbing a callused thumb over her knuckles. The familiar gesture, along with her present company, soothes her. “Before you can blink, we’ll be sending him off to college!”

“Don’t _say_ things like that, Dick!” Barbara laughs, giving him a playful slap, “Let’s think about potty training first, okay?”

“Alright, Babs, whatever you say.” Dick smiles and nudges her with his shoulder.

“Ms. Barbara, we have arrived.” Alfred’s proper British accent brings them back to reality, and Jim looks out the window to find that they have indeed reached the hospital. He takes a deep breath to prepare himself; he needs to be strong not only for himself, but for Barbara as well. Today is very important, and _nothing_ must go wrong.

Alfred retrieves Barbara’s chair, assisting her as she climbs out of the car. She grins wryly up at him once she’s settled, “Don’t fret, you old smoothie. Everything will be fine and you’ll have a great-grandson before the day’s done.” He smiles back at her, squeezing her shoulder firmly.

“Let’s go then, Miss Gordon.” The group enters the hospitals front doors, where they check in and then are brought to the operating room.

Everyone but Dick is instructed to remain outside in the waiting room. “This is a risky procedure, and we need to limit the amount of distractions,” the doctor says, then turns to Dick. “Mr. Grayson, you may only enter under the condition that you _do not_ distract me or my assistants _in any way_. This means talking, crying, getting too close, etc. Are we clear?” His stern look makes Dick gulp, and immediately he knows Barbara is in very capable hands.

“Yessir,” he says, then takes the proffered smock he’s supposed to wear in the operating room.

“Stand over there,” the surgeon orders him, indicating a place by the wall that’s out of the way, “and stay as quiet as humanly possible.” Barbara’s already been anesthetized, but he still wants to be by her side and holding her hand. Standing so far away pains him, but he realizes how lucky he is to even be allowed in the room.

It’s difficult for Dick to watch the procedure. He has to look away several times, especially when they do the initial incision. He knows what they’re doing is the right and safe thing to do, but seeing his wife cut open like that leaves a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach. It’s nerve-wracking knowing that the slightest error or slip of the hand could possibly threaten the life of not only little John, but Barbara as well. Dick was never extremely religious, but damn if he isn’t sending up multiple prayers to every deity he knows right now to look out for Babs and their baby.

What could be minutes or hours later, his frantic worrying is interrupted by one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard: a baby crying. It’s as if a dam has been broken; silent tears pour down his face, dripping down his shirt. He sniffles and wipes them away, and smiles what is possible the biggest smile he’s ever smiled in his life as they snip the umbilical cord.

“Congratulations, Mr. Grayson. Looks like you’ve got yourself a healthy baby boy!” Some of the doctors clean off John and swaddle him in a blanket while the rest get to work on removing the placenta and stitching up Barbara. “Come with me,” one doctor says as they head to another room. In here, they record John’s weight and length and such. By all appearances, he’s completely healthy, and further examinations back up this evidence. They place him under a warm lamp, and one of assistants inform him that this is the “quiet and alert” stage where John examines the world around him.

Watching his son ( _His son! He has a son!)_ , he can see this. John’s big blue eyes (a lighter shade that’s somewhere in between Dick’s deeper blue and Barbara’s sky blue) blink and roam around the room. His mouth is open in wonder, and sounds of curiosity escape it every now and then.

“Hey little guy,” Dick says quietly, not wanting to break the serene silence of the room. He stands beside the table John is resting on, gazing at him. “How you doin’? I’m your dad. You recognize my voice?” John’s eyes focus on him immediately, and a tiny baby arm reaches out towards him. Dick grins, sticking out his hand in return. John latches onto his pointer finger immediately, and Dick marvels at the strength in the grip. “Look at you,” he says, “Ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. I can’t believe I helped make you!”

He pauses for a moment, examining John’s features. He’s already noticed that his blue eyes are a shade between Barbara’s and his own, but he’s got Dick’s dark hair. The eye shape is more similar to Barbara’s, but he can’t really tell whose nose his son has. Then again, baby noses hardly look like adult noses, so he shouldn’t expect much. The dark locks are soft, almost impossibly so, and stick out wildly in a way that makes Dick snicker. Each new sound and movement draw’s John’s attention, and before Dick knows it he’s lost in his admiration for his son. He can’t help it, everything about John just seems so… _perfect_. He’s still having difficultly believe that he actually constitutes half of this tiny little being’s genetic makeup. It’s a bit surreal to him.

“Mr. Grayson?” The quiet is broken, and Dick jerks up to see that two hours have passed. “We’re bringing John back to your room now. Your family can visit once we bring your wife back, but let them know that it’s three at a time and they must not be disruptive. Your wife should be regaining consciousness in a bit; we’ll bring her in when she’s ready to be moved.” Dick nods, letting the doctor move John onto a special cart that will double as his bed while they stay at the hospital. He follows the doctor down the hallway, then proceeds to the waiting room where the small crowd known as his family waits eagerly.

Bruce notices his approach first, and his reaction catches everyone else’s attention. “Well?” Tim asks, “Did everything go well?”

Dick grins widely, and there’s a collective sigh of relief. “I’m pleased to announce that both Barbara and our son John Thomas Grayson are perfectly healthy.” Smiles and murmurs pass around the room as its occupants realize they’re finally being told the baby’s name. Bruce’s eyes water, and he turns so he can discretely (or so he thinks) wipe away his tears.

“Can we see them?” Jim asks, and Dick shakes his head.

“Not yet, they want to bring Barbara back in and let John have some time with her before there are any visitors,” Dick replies. Jim huffs in disappointment, but he understands.

“Get back in there,” he shoos the brand new father back in the direction of Barbara’s room, “I want you in there when she gets back!” Dick laughs and eagerly scampers back to the room where John is waiting.

“Hey little guy,” he says softly, taking note of the adorable little hat they put on John while he was talking to his family, “Your mom’s gonna be here soon. Bet you can’t wait to meet her face-to-face for the first time, can you?” Assured that John is suitably calm, he takes a moment to sit down and relax. Breathing out a deep sigh of relief, Dick tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling. Today had been long and eventful, and he’s more than a bit worn out. But honestly? He thinks this might be one of the best days of his life.

“Mr. Grayson?” The doctor pops his head into the room a few minutes later, breaking the silence. “We’re bringing your wife in now.” Dick stands immediately, hovering as they bring a half-awake Barbara in and gently transition her onto the hospital bed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he smiles as they make her comfortable. “How’re you feeling?” Babs lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a groan and a grunt, and Dick laughs. “Yeah, yeah. You ready to see John?”

“Am I _ever_ ,” she says, perking up immediately even though the drugs are still running through her system and making her a bit loopy. Dick immediately brings their son over. He brings the newborn down, resting him by his wife’s head so Barbara can see him, and she immediately gasps. “Oh god…he’s _perfect._ ” She reaches over with a shaking hand, tears of happiness streaming down her face as she tenderly caresses the infant’s soft and flawless skin. These past few months of occasional pain and nausea and worry seem trivial and unimportant and _totally worth it_ in light of what they produced. John coos, blinking his gorgeous blue eyes at her as he drools a bit into her hair. Dick smiles proudly.

“We did good, babe.”

“Did _well_ ,” she corrects automatically, but doesn’t argue. She smiles, lost in her son’s eyes as she drinks in his appearance. She sticks out a finger, brushing it against his plump cheek, eyes widening as he turns his head and starts suckling on it.

“Looks like he’s hungry,” a feminine voice comes from the doorway. Dick starts, whirling around to find a middle-aged nurse entering their room. “Oops, didn’t mean to startle you,” she says with a guilty look on your face, “I just came to help the lovely mother get her bearings.” She grins knowingly as she approaches the bedside, “I’ve had four of these little squirts myself and I still never get tired of seeing this.”

Barbara smiles as the nurse gently hands John to Dick and raises the bed into a sitting position, adjusting the pillows so she’s comfortable. The nurse – Donna, according to her nametag – takes John back from Dick, placing the newborn in Barbara’s arms. “We’re gonna have you feed him first before anyone comes in, okay sweetheart?” Barbara nods, unbuttoning the buttons down the front of her gown as the nurse instructs her to and cradling John close to a breast.

The hungry infant instantly latches on, eagerly feeding for the first time. It’s an odd sensation, that’s for sure, but she worked too hard to bring this child into the world to start complaining now.

Soon enough John is full, and Donna carefully demonstrates to Dick and Barbara how to properly burp the infant while Barbara buttons up. The nurse then hands John back to Barbara as Dick sits back in a chair by her bed.

“I’ll go grab your family for you, hon. They’re the big group with Bruce Wayne and the Commissioner, right?” Donna asks. Dick nods, more focused on the noises of contentment John is making.

She disappears, and a few minutes later Bruce, Jim, and Alfred join them. Alfred and Jim cry tears of happiness at the sight of the small infant, while Bruce looks completely blown away. His wide eyes and slightly agape mouth suggest that the reality of the situation has just hit him, and he’s only now realizing that _Dick has a kid_ and _he’s a grandfather._

“Young sir,” Alfred says, still sticking to his perfect British butler way of addressing him, “he’s perfect.” Dick smiles, standing and laying an arm over the shoulder of the man who’s practically his grandfather.

“He is, isn’t he? Not hard to imagine given half of his genes come from Babs, but half of them come from me, too!” Jim cracks a smile, edges of his mustache wet with tears caught before they could roll off his chin.

“Don’t sell yourself short, son. I wouldn’t let my daughter marry just any ol’ man!” He says, patting Dick on the back. Barbara laughs, and Bruce approaches the group, still silent in what appears to be awe.

“He’s so…small.” He finally says after a moment, and Alfred and Dick share an amused glance.

“Yeah, B, babies are small. He’ll get bigger, I promise.”

“Yes, Master Bruce, I distinctly remember you being that small at one time.” Dick and Jim laugh, both trying to imagine a man of Bruce’s size once being small enough for Dick to hold in one arm. It’s difficult for Dick to comprehend that Batman, the man who’s practically his _father_ , was once so tiny.

“He looks like you,” Bruce says suddenly, “I can pick out some of Barbara’s features here and there, but he definitely looks like you.”

“What are you talking about, Bruce? He totally looks like Barbara! I can barely see any of Dick in there!” Jim jokes. “Now, can we hold John?”

“Sure,” Dick says, carefully lifting his son into his arms. He takes a second to make sure he’s got a solid grip, then gently hands him to Alfred. The old man gratefully accepts the infant, immediately shifting him into his arms in a way that just _screams_ that he’s had years of experience with babies.

“Oh my,” he says, tearing up as he brushes a withered finger over the baby’s soft cheek.

“Look at that, Alfie,” Dick says quietly, “You’re a great-grandfather. Betcha never thought that would happen, did you?”

“To be quite frank, Master Dick, I never thought I would even be a _grandfather._ ” He gives Bruce a meaningful stare, who merely looks pointedly at Dick. Alfred rolls his eyes in response, then goes back to admiring the bundle in his arms. “Here,” he says after a moment, handing him to the closet person, “I believe it’s Mister Gordon’s turn to hold his grandchild.” Bruce looks a little putout that he wasn’t next, but he’s not about to complain.

“Hey there little fella,” Gordon says, “I’m your granddad.” There’s a soft smile on his face as he gently pushes a dark lock of John’s hair out of the way. He chuckles as the infant blinks his wide blue eyes up at him. “Look at you! You’re gonna have to beat the girls off with a stick when you grow up, aren’t you?”

“Or the boys,” Dick adds.

“Or both,” Babs laughs, “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

He then carefully hands his grandchild to Bruce, who looks terrified he’ll drop John. Batman holding random babies is one thing, but Bruce holding his _very own grandchild_ is completely different.

“Relax, Bruce, John isn’t going to eat you.” Dick carefully adjusts Bruce’s arms so his son sits better and Bruce has a better grip. “Here. Is that better?” Bruce nods, still silent. He doesn’t know what to say. Just like Alfred never thought he’d be a great-grandfather, Bruce never imagined he’d be a grandfather. He didn’t think any of his children would actually find someone they’d stick with and settle down enough to have or adopt kids. Dick would have been his first bet on something like that, but it had been a bit difficult for a couple of years between Barbara and Kory and a few others.

“Congratulations, Dick, Barbara,” Bruce finally says after a moment, then gently hands the infant back to his mother.

 “Should we let the others come in?” Gordon asks after a moment, and the others agree. Dick stays with John and Barbara while the men shuffle out of the room to grab three more visitors. Dick leans forward, gently stroking John’s hair and taking a moment to admire his son before his siblings come and ruin the quiet.

Cass, Tim, and Steph enter then. Steph practically runs over with a huge smile that threatens to split her face in two. She gets all misty-eyed, and Dick doesn’t even have to ask. Without a word, he takes John and hands him to her.

“Hey little dude,” she grins, “it’s nice to finally meet you face-to-face. I’m your Aunt Steph!” John gurgles and drools on her hand, but Steph only laughs. “He’s so cute ‘n handsome…man, you two did a real good job with this one!”

Dick laughs. “Thanks, Steph,” he says as she hands his son to a very nervous Cass. “Here, Cass, come sit next to me.” Cass sits wordlessly. She knows exactly how to hold him so his head is supported, but she’s still terrified. Dick thinks she might be worried she’ll squeeze John or something, which is ridiculous. Cass couldn’t hurt a fly if she didn’t want to.

“He is…small.” She says after a moment, her dark eyes drinking in every detail and movement of John. Barbara smiles.

“Yup. But he’ll grow fast, don’t worry. He’ll be too big to hold like that before you know it!” Cass nods, still mesmerized by infant in her arms.

“His name,” she says, “John. It’s strong. A good name; I like it.” Dick smiles again.

Cass smiles at her older brother, then carefully hands her nephew back to Dick. She stands, and Dick motions for Tim to sit. The teen suddenly looks _terrified_.

“Hey,” Dick says as he hands John to a very stiff Tim, “everyone has to hold him at least once. Now it’s your turn. Don’t worry, he won’t bite.” He carefully adjusts Tim’s arms so that he’s properly supporting John’s head.

“Yeah, Tim, the worst he can do is drool you to death,” Steph laughs, and it relaxes Tim a bit. Barbara ‘hmmm’s.

“With the amount of drool I’ve mopped up from his mouth in the short time I’ve been with him, I think that’s a very distinct possibility,” she jokes. Tim cracks a nervous smile.

“Here,” Dick says, taking Tim’s hand and maneuvering a finger into John’s grip. He can see it has the same effect on Tim that it had on him not two hours ago; the strong grip is a surprise, and Dick can see that Tim is absolutely enthralled. A hesitant smile spreads over his face. “Not so bad, is it?”

“Wow,” is all Tim can say. After a minute he hands John back to Dick, and the three depart to get the last two members of their family. Meanwhile, Dick stands and rocks John a bit, trying to calm him down. All the people holding him and passing him from person to person has gotten him a bit excited, and neither Dick nor Barbara want him to start crying.

Not even a minute later Dick and Barbara can hear Bruce’s stern voice warning Jason and Damian to be on their _absolute best behavior_. The two smirk, but hide it quickly as Dick’s two younger brothers slink through the door. Bruce pokes his head in, making sure everything’s okay, then nods to Dick and leaves.

“So this is the little guy?” Jason asks, coming to stand by Dick’s side and peering over his shoulder. “He’s all red and wrinkly. I thought babies were supposed to be cute ‘n stuff.” Barbara snorts.

“Jason, he’s been in my womb for nine months. Could you stay in a pool for that long and not come out looking like a shriveled prune? He’s only about two hours old; the wrinkles will go away soon.”

“Out of the way, Todd,” Damian says as he tries to view John too. Dick quickly suppresses a smile, bending a bit so Damian can see.

“See, Dami? I told you he’d be small.” The boy studies his son with a comically serious face that widens into surprise when John catches Damain’s finger in his strong grasp. “Looks like he got your hand too! Pretty strong for such a tiny guy, isn’t he?”

“He has potential,” Damian says, then carefully tries to get his finger out of John’s grip.

“Do you two want to hold them?” Babs asks, looking between her brothers-in-law. They freeze like deer in headlights.

“C’mon, don’t be afraid. _Tim_ held him…” Dick adds in. That seems to do the trick. Neither one of the two wants Tim to have the upper hand against them in _anything_ , be it in physical fights or holding a harmless baby. Dick moves over to a chair, motioning for Jason to join him and Barbara. “Here.” He hands John over to Jason, moving his younger brother’s arms until he’s properly got his son in a stable grip. “See, it’s not so hard.”

Jason is still frozen stiff, and what little of his face Dick can see at this angle reminds him greatly of the scrawny little urchin Bruce had dragged straight off the streets one fateful night so many years ago.

“He’s so…light,” Jason says, “he barely weighs anything.” John, in his arms, makes some sort of noise that vaguely resembles a coo, then gurgles and proceeds to drool all down his front. “Gross, man,” Jason says, sticking out his tongue, “your kid’s like Niagara Falls!” Dick laughs, carefully reaching around Jason to wipe away some of the drool.

“Says the man who I know for a fact still drools in his sleep.” Jason shoots Dick a dirty look, then gingerly hands him his son. As soon as John is back in Dick’s arms, Jason stands up and begins inspecting himself for drool. Damian, meanwhile, sits down next to Dick. He looks very much like he does not want to do this, and there’s still a bit of that deer in headlights look upon his face. Children and infants are _not_ Damian’s specialty, and he knows it.

Dick’s a bit more gentle with Damian. “Careful,” he murmurs as he lowers John into his arms, “you have to make sure his head is properly supported.” He maneuvers Damian’s arms until they’re in the proper position. “Like I told Jason, it’s not that hard.” He smiles fondly. Damian’s face is very much like Jason’s was a minute earlier; nervous, but trying to hide it behind a tough front.

“Todd’s right,” he says after a moment, “John is light, almost distressingly so. Are you sure he’s healthy?” Dick smiles fondly, ruffling Damian’s hair. The boy scowls but doesn’t resist, too afraid of jostling the infant in his arms.

“You say that now, but you’d be surprised how fast babies grow.” Damian tuts, then carefully hands John back. Dick takes him gratefully, getting to his feet and rocking the newborn again.

“Why don’t you two go down to the cafeteria and get a snack or something; I’m sure they have vending machines,” Barbara volunteers.

“Get me something to eat, too, while you’re down there, will you?” Dick adds as they turn to leave. Jason smirks, but gives him a mock salute.

“Anything you say, daddy-o.” Dick rolls his eyes at Jason’s antics, then turns his attention back to his son.

“This is really _real_ , Babs,” Dick says after a moment, “We really have a baby.” Babs smiles fondly as he draws close and sits down by her side again.

“We’re really parents, Dick,” she says, leaning over and giving him a peck on head. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fantastic.” Dick hands John back to her, then stands and begins pacing.

“But what if I’m _not_ , Barbara? I mean, you’ve obviously already got your motherly instincts kicking in, but what if I mess up?” Babs can just imagine how her husband must be rattling off different worst case scenarios in his head that end up with him dead or John hating him. She huffs, scarlet locks fluttering out of her face.

“Richard John Grayson, calm down,” she scolds him. “Think about this for a second. You – Dick Grayson, ‘Uncle Dick’ to Lian and the man who got _Damian Wayne_ under control – a bad father? The day you aren’t a good father is the day Bruce fires Alfred!” Dick grins sheepishly at her.

“True, but still…” he heaves a sigh, looking up at Barbara through dark bangs, “John is… _ours_.” He plops down in the seat next to her again, looking at her imploringly for answers. She grins fondly, reaching out an arm for him. He leans in, resting his head on the bed beside her lap. Babs cards her free hand through his hair, silent for the moment. Dick has always responded well to physical contact, and even now she can feel the tension eking out of his body.

“If John is ours,” she begins, “then I am equally as likely as you to mess things up, okay?” Dick immediately sits up, mouth opening to protest, but she places a pale finger over his lips. “Hush. If I’m as incapable of messing up John as you insist, and we are equally likely to mess things up…” she looks him in the eye, making sure he’s listening, “then you’re not very likely to mess things up at all, now are you?” Dick looks like he wants to argue, but can’t think of any good points. Barbara _hmms_. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now here, Mister Man,” she says gently lifting the slumbering John and handing him to her husband, “put him in his bed. I’m going to get some well-deserved rest, and I think you should do.”

He leans down, careful not to jostle John, and kisses her gently on the lips. “We did good, hon.”

“We did _well_ ,” she corrects, and they laugh.

* * *

 

Barbara consents to allowing herself to be wheeled out of the hospital, but only because it’s Alfred wheeling her and she still hasn’t fully recovered from the cesarean and she wants to hold John (which is surprisingly difficult to do while wheeling a wheelchair). Dick makes a mental note to try to find some of the slings he bought a few months ago that will allow his wife to hold John and still be able to use her wheelchair without too much difficulty.

“Remember, call us _immediately_ if _anything_ goes wrong or seems odd,” the doctor reminds them as Bruce places John in a carrier while Alfred and Dick assist Barbara.

“Don’t you worry, sir,” Alfred replies, “We will.” Dick doesn’t doubt it for a second, and not for the first time he feels a rush of affection for the kind butler. The doctor hovers for a moment, longer, then once he’s sure the family has everything under control, he turns and leaves.

They quickly make themselves comfortable in the car, with John in his carrier between his parents in the backseat and Bruce peering over the shoulder of his spot in the passenger seat. He’s been every bit the doting grandparent throughout this entire ordeal, and if Dick had known he would’ve responded like this, he would’ve proposed to Babs and started having kids a lot earlier.

“Is everybody ready?” Alfred asks, and when he receives murmurs of approval, he then starts the car and begins the drive back to Wayne Manor. Dick and Barbara had decided it would be easiest to stay at the Manor at first, where they had plenty of hands (and a well-experienced butler) willing to assist them whenever possible. Privately, Dick wonders how long it will actually _be_ before he and Babs and John actually move back to the clock tower. He has a sneaking suspicion it will be far longer than either he or his wife initially planned.

They pull up to the Manor to find an exhausted but happy Jim Gordon climbing out of his cruiser. He’d just gotten off his night shift not a half an hour ago, and though he couldn’t be there when his daughter got out of the hospital, he was going to be there when she brought his grandson home.

“Hey, sweetie,” he says as he approaches, reaching out to hold John’s carrier while Dick ever-so-carefully helps Barbara into her chair. She looks up and smiles at him. Though both she and Dick are exhausted (John is not one of those babies that doesn’t cry all night), Barbara still manages to look radiant.

“Hey, daddy!” She says tilting her head up as he kisses her on the forehead. He grins, then focuses his attention on the newborn dozing in his carrier. Luckily, John _is_ one of those babies that falls asleep in the car, and though he does gurgle and kick a leg, the baby shows no signs of waking up soon. Jim regards the perfectly curled fists (bundled up in baby mittens to prevent John from scratching his face, as babies tend to do) and wonders what happened to make Barbara receive this miracle. He _knows_ that the chances of her actually being able to have kids are astronomically low due to the gunshot wound that changed her life, yet here he is looking down at a baby that is not only alive, but also perfectly healthy.

There’s a burning sensation in his eyes, and Jim scolds himself. “You sentimental old fool,” he murmurs, wiping away all traces of wetness with his free hand, then quickly follows the rest of the caravan into the Manor.

They head up to John’s nursery, which apparently Dick’s siblings have taken it upon themselves to decorate in light of John’s arrival at the Manor. There’s a banner hanging above the window that reads “WELCOME TO YOUR NEW HOME, JOHN” and has touches of all the children visible in its decorations (Jim has to marvel at the artfully drawn elephant that is no doubt a product of Damian’s hand).  

The siblings are all waiting for them, and they beam when the happy couple and their baby enter the room. Stephanie (the one who’s had on-again-off-again relationships with Tim, yet is regardless a part of the family if Jim remembers correctly) immediately rushes forward, peering into the carrier. “May I?” she asks Barbara, who nods obligingly. Jim thinks Barbara might’ve told him about Stephanie once being a teen mom, and his face softens a bit in understanding as he assists her in getting John out of his carrier and into her arms.

“Hello again,” she says to the awakening infant as everyone else helps Barbara and Dick get their things in order and make themselves comfortable. “Remember me? Auntie Steph?” John gurgles, waves his tiny fits around, then promptly starts wailing. Those not with their hands full immediately cover their ears while Steph looks helplessly at the parents. “All I did was say hello!” she says over the baby’s deafening wails.

Babs sighs, but reaches out her arms for her son. “He’s hungry again, he needs to be fed.”

* * *

 

Dick jolts awake later that night to the sound of John wailing. He groans, trying to bury his head under his soft, plush pillow (as much as he loves the clock tower, nothing can beat the Manor’s beds), but his wife thwarts his attempts. She groans, reaching over and slapping him across the hip.

“Before dawn, he’s yours,” she grumbles, going back to sleep. Dick sighs, but rolls over and climbs out of bed. He stumbles blindly out of the room and into the nursery right next door, where he turns on and then dims the light, then reaches into the mini fridge and pulls out a bottle of pre-prepared breast milk and puts it in the microwave (God bless Bruce and his desire to make everything as easy as possible for the new parents). Dick then reaches into the crib and picks up Alex, gently cradling him and rocking him back and forth in an attempt to get him to calm down while the milk heats up.

“ _Shhh_ , John, don’t cry, your milk will be ready any second now,” he murmurs, whispering quiet nonsense in John’s ear as he draws his son close. The microwave beeps, and Dick eagerly takes out the bottle and then sits down to begin feeding the infant. John quickly latches on the nipple, eagerly suckling. “You must’ve been very hungry, huh?” Dick whispers. He begins to sing a comforting lullaby his mother used to sing to him when he was a child, humming the parts where he forgets the words. 

Eventually the bottle is empty, and Dick props John up to be burped. He stands up, walking around the room as he bobs a bit and continues to hum the lullaby, gently coaxing the infant back to slumber.

From outside through a crack in the doorway, Damian observes the pair. Something nasty twists in his gut when he realizes that the song Grayson is singing to his son is the same one he had sung to Damian on numerous occasions while Father had been…gone. The soft look on Grayson’s face as he carefully lowers his son back into the crib makes Damian scowl as he turns to return to his room before Grayson can detect his presence.

He lies in his bed, back ramrod straight, as he contemplates the scene he had just observed. It was an ordinary scene – so domestic it makes him want to gag, yet still nothing particularly out of the ordinary. So why does it bother him so much? Why is he left with a cold, disgusting feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he thinks of the look full of love with which Grayson had gazed upon his son? There is no reasonable explanation for this unpleasant sensation and that in and of itself irks Damian. His scowl deepens as he rolls over to attempt to get some sleep.

It does not come easily.

* * *

 

The next morning, Dick stumbles into the Manor’s kitchen looking like reheated death. “C’n I get a plate f’r Babs?” he slurs as he plops down at the counter, resting his head on the cool granite. “She’s up w’John r’now,” he explains.

Alfred smiles fondly as Tim eagerly volunteers to take the food up instead of Dick, handing the young man the plate. “You look exhausted, sir. I take it the young master was not quiet last night?” Damian tuts as Dick moans and tries to bury his face deeper into the counter.

“Far from it,” Damian replies with an irritated frown, “His incessant wailing disturbed me numerous times last night.” He huffs, biting into his apple forcefully.

“Well, Master Damian, infants at the age of Master John require more frequent feedings,” Alfred explains as he gathers up the dish and utensils Tim left behind. “Babies grow very quickly, as I’m sure Master Dick has often informed you, and soon the young master will no longer require feedings so often in the middle of the night.”

Damian snorts. “I certainly hope so,” he says as he continues to eat his breakfast in sullen silence.

Dick peers at Damian with bleary eyes, wondering what the cause is for the sudden change in attitude towards John. Just yesterday, Damian had been eager and excited about John’s arrival in the Manor, and had seemed to be looking forward to being an uncle. A few interruptions in the middle of the night hardly warrant the sudden shift in view. Perhaps John had vomited on Damian at some point? No, if that had happened, Dick would’ve most _definitely_ heard by now.

Just when he’s about to ask Damian, Alfred sets a heaping plate of pancakes and sausage and eggs down in front of him. After the past few days he’s suffered with hospital food, one of Alfred’s home cooked meals tastes like he’s died and gone to heaven. All his worries vanish as soon as he takes a bite out of his sausage.

* * *

 

After several instances of Damian being snippy and generally negative towards John, Dick pulls his youngest brother aside for a talk.

“Look, Damian,” Dick sighs, “I’m not trying to blame you for anything, I’m just trying to understand…” he trails off, attempting to figure out how to phrase the question he wants to ask.

“Spit it out, Grayson,” Damian rolls his eyes. Dick lets out a puff of air.

“I just want to know why you suddenly hate John,” he implores of the young teen, “You were so excited before,” Dick says, “but now…” he spreads his hands out, palms up, attempting to gesture his confusion.

“I did not realize just how _troublesome_ infants could be,” Damian begrudges, “They are noisy, smelly, sticky, and over glorified _parasites_. I do not see the appeal. Why does everyone’s life suddenly revolve around a nasty, wrinkly red thing that does nothing but cry and defecate in its pants? You _and_ Father…” he voice wavers, trailing off. Dick’s expression softens in understanding. He reaches an arm around Damian’s shoulders, drawing the boy close to his side.

“Damian,” he begins, “Infants require a lot of care. _A lot_ ,” he emphasizes, “Without all that extra care, they would never make it. Besides,” he says with a wry grin, “you were once at this stage, remember.”

Damian tuts. “I am the son of Batman!” he says, “I was never such a nuisance!” Dick snorts.

“You keep believing that,” he replies. “The point is, we’re not forgetting about you. It’s just gonna take a bit before everything settles down and goes back to normal, okay? You’re just not the baby – the _youngest_ –“ he continues over Damian’s protests of not being a baby, “anymore, that’s all.” He draws Damian around so that the boy is in front of him. “Damian, kiddo, we’re not gonna suddenly stop loving you because John’s in the house okay?” He pulls him in for a tight hug, ignoring the way Damian squirms at the contact. “Hush. You will _always_ be my brother, and you will _always_ be Bruce’s son. Nothing can change that, got it? Not even a baby.”

Maybe his ears are playing tricks on him, but Dick thinks he can hear Damian sniffle a bit as the boy draws his arms around Dick’s shoulders for a quick but tight hug. Dick lets go when Damian does, not wanting to “overstay his welcome,” as he might put it.

“Now,” Dick says, “why don’t you try and spend some time with John? Play with him, talk to him, whatever. Maybe you guys’ll be friends!” He smiles widely, though Damian rolls his eyes.

“Grayson, your child is but a few weeks old. He is hardly old enough to be forming ‘friends.’” Dick laughs.

“That’s just what you think…”

* * *

 

“Uncle D! Uncle D!” Bare feet come _thump thump thumping_ down the hallway and Damian barely has a moment’s notice before his eldest nephew comes barging into his room. “Uncle Damian!” John beams, “Are you ready? Dad said we’re leaving soon!” Damian groans, tempted to roll over and go back to sleep, but he had _promised_ Dick that he’d go rock climbing, and damned if didn’t go through on his promise.

“Just a second, John,” he says, sitting up and pulling on a shirt, “I’ll be right down.” John grins again, darting out the door. Damian can hear a specific pattern of thumping that indicates that John is doing handsprings down the soft plush carpet of the hall, and feels a wry grin grow on his face. At ten years old today, John Thomas Grayson is every bit his father’s son. Well, in the acrobatics and charming department, that is. His has his mother’s razor-sharp brains and excellent (though not quite photographic) memory, though.

It’s hard to believe that a decade ago, he was small enough to fit in Damian’s childish arms. Over the past ten years, John has certainly grown in leaps and bounds (pun definitely intended). His just as skilled in acrobatics as his father, and with Barbara’s help he’s cracking codes faster than Tim could when he was fifteen.

 _“Hurry up!_ ” Damian hears distantly from downstairs. Chuckling to himself, he finishes brushing his teeth and ties on his shoes, then heads downstairs. John is bouncing on his feet, standing by while his father loads up the trunk of the car they’re taking.

At thirty-eight, Dick Grayson isn’t quite as young as he used to be. Oh, he’s still fearless, effusive, and full of grace, but there’s a touch of gray in his silken locks and laugh lines on his face. When it rains, his left knee makes him limp and he can barely write for how his right hand twinges. Still, he somehow manages to keep up with all _three_ of his children (John, Mary, and Dinah – the two daughters had been adopted) and still have energy left to patrol. The man looks up and grins when he sees who’s approaching.

“Hey, Damian! You ready to go?”

“Yeah!” John whoops, punching his fist in the air and flipping into the car. “Let’s go!”

Damian laughs and follows.  

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a [prompt](http://fyeahbatmanandrobin.tumblr.com/post/27283792900/answer-all-the-anons-round-4) a lovely anon left fyeahbatmandrobin (not me) on tumblr.


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